


Alone in a Crowded World

by LacrimosaTheDark



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abandonment, Abuse, Alternate Universe - Human, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Loneliness, Lots of Crying, Misgendering, Physical Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character, author is projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 18:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacrimosaTheDark/pseuds/LacrimosaTheDark
Summary: Patton has struggles at home in what feels like an inescapable hell.





	Alone in a Crowded World

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% a vent fic, I am totally projecting and they might be out of character. Don't take this one too seriously or think this is how I portray these characters. I don't think Patton or Deceit would behave in this way but it felt the most...right, if it makes sense. I just needed to get this out in a way that was productive rather than destructive. So...yeah.

Sobs tried to work their way up through a stubbornly closed throat resulting in a violent wave of coughs and gasps for air as tears of all kinds of pain flowed freely with almost no regard.

Patton giggled softly to himself. He wasn’t surprised by his own suffering. He was stupid and brought it on himself. He didn’t deserve it, he knew, but he should’ve expected it, avoided it.

He tried to talk to his brother about their mother, who was irritable and stubborn and stressed all the time. Patton had been frustrated and concerned that the previous evening, in attempting to be more useful and gain some personal agency, he’d upset her. The problem being his brother was harsh and cruel, and didn’t differentiate his own opinions from what was supposedly their mother's.

On top of that, Patton had forgotten that both his brother and mother were liars. Incredibly idiotic considering he had been almost teasingly calling his brother Deceit for nearly two years.

Patton was dealing with a lot so he was already emotionally vulnerable and was dumb enough to open himself up to it. His brother threw around a word that was not okay to use. And when Patton grew visibly upset, Deceit had scoffed and mocked him for being hurt and angry.

Patton, enraged that his emotions were a joke to someone he couldn’t bring himself to hate, in an act he...partially regretted, stomped over to his brother, grabbed the drawstrings of his jacket and tugged, hissing “ _Don’t ever say that to me again._ ”

It was a mistake.

His brother immediately retaliated. He flailed out with one arm, slapping Patton up the left side of his head and nearly knocking off his glasses. Before Patton could get away, his right arm was grabbed in a vice grip and twisted until he was bent over at 90 degrees, his glasses dropping to the floor. His arm was held on the solid surface of the back of the couch as Deceit, hissing and snarling vitriol, pounded his fist down on Patton’s arm multiple times.

Patton had felt fear and shame and rage when he was finally able to grab his glasses and tuck tail and retreat to his room. Though he didn’t feel much safer there. He was the only one without a lock on his door after all. But he was also the only one without a screen in his window, so at least he wouldn’t cornered.

As he got back to his room, he saw a goodnight message from Virgil on his computer, and Patton failed to hold back a sob as he messaged a happy “good night!! sleep well!! :D <3” to his best friend, refraining from spilling the events of the evening out onto his computer.

He curled up on his bed, grabbing a Pokedoll from his bed, one of the few he’d bought himself and hugging it close as he carefully laid on his left. He knew he would cry if he laid on his right side. He knew without looking that bruises were blossoming under his skin.

He whimpered softly, and despite that he’d never do it, all he could think of was escaping through his window, walking down the street and jumping from the bridge to the harsh racks and rushing waters below. He couldn’t bring himself to, Virgil and Roman would be distraught with mourning, and Logan...well it was equally likely that Logan either wouldn’t care at all, or that he’d internalize his pain until he ruptured. Patton couldn’t stand to cause his friends to suffer every day. He would suffer every day just to keep that from happening. But nothing could make him enjoy it.

He tried to comfort himself with thoughts of his friends, but it only tore more at his heart. He missed Logan, and he so longed to be with Virgil and Roman. Logan, who had been a good friend at one point, had grown admittedly distant, even moreso since he went off to college. But Patton missed his level head and cool reason, how Logan could even get Patton’s evil brother to listen, and how he could get through to Patton even when he was blinded by sorrow and pain and anger, how his physical and mental prowess made him someone to be listened to and respected. He wished Virgil and Roman lived closer. Virgil was so far away, and Roman even farther, and Patton knew it hurt them almost as much as it hurt him. Virgil often sent Patton angry messages about how he was going to kill Deceit, which Patton always asked him not to, if more for Virgil’s sake than his brother’s. Roman sent messages of how he wished he could come and get Patton and whisk him away to safety. Virgil shared that sentiment, if in a more...aggressive manner. Both had their own ways of distracting Patton, but they were both asleep by now. Patton was alone.

He had to get out. If only for a while, he had to. He picked up his phone and called for his last resort.

Patton curled up tighter as he heard his mother return from work, Deceit already describing his side of the story. He reluctantly got up as he heard his brother saying he didn’t remember what he’d said to set Patton off. He took a deep breath, setting his doll down as he exited his room.

His mother was devesting herself of bags and jackets as Deceit followed her through the house, explaining his view with his snarky voice as she listened with an irritated expression.

“I don’t remember what I said,” he repeated.

“I do,” Patton said, softly but forcibly, loud enough to be heard. When he was looked at expectantly, he looked toward the wall and said, “He called me retarded, and when I got upset he said... ‘Aw, does that hurt your fee-fees?’.”

As much as it hurt, Patton wasn’t surprised when his mother laughed. “Why do you have to be such an ass?” she asked Deceit, but there was no vitriol in it. No anger, no sign of imminent punishment. She went to her room to shift from work clothes to bed clothes. Patton shook his head to himself and sat down with the dogs, stroking their fur for comfort as Deceit followed their mother into her room a few minutes later.

One of the dogs bumped Patton’s arm and he hissed. It hurt. Badly. He reluctantly decided to finally look and see the damage. He frowned as he saw, as he expected, spots of purple under the surface of his skin. It felt worse than it looked, but it didn’t look nice. Patton knew trying to explain his side and ask for his mother’s support would get him nowhere, but maybe seeing the damage would move her to do...something.

He went to her room, both her and Deceit were sitting on her bed, discussing something Patton didn’t have the energy to be curious about.

“What is it?” his mother asked blandly.

“Just, two things,” Patton said. “When are you leaving this weekend?”

“Friday night. Why?”

Patton’s frown deepened. His mother was going away for the weekend to watch her friend’s kids while she was away. Patton was hoping he’d at least have Friday night in moderate safety, but apparently not. “I need to know when I need to leave.”

Deceit scoffed. “It’s not like she won’t be here at all. She still has her stuff here.”

“I’m watching two teenagers, I’ll be home every once in a while.”

“I still can’t stay here,” Patton said with finality. “Also...” He rolled up his sleeve that had fallen down, showing the darkening bruises to his mother.

“I don’t want to hear about it,” she said sharply, putting her hands up.

“But--”

“I’m not getting in the middle of this,” she said, reaching for the remote to her TV. “And don’t call my mother for something like this again.”

There was practically an exclamation mark over Patton’s head, he was so stunned and confused by that. Not only was it _not her business_ who he called when she was no help at all _ever_ , but he hadn’t called his grandmother at all. “What? I didn’t call her.”

“Yes she did!” Deceit said.

Patton gritted his teeth and glared at his brother. “ _I did not._ ”

“I heard her voice!”

“No you didn’t, because _I didn’t call her_.”

“Then who was it?”

“I was calling a _respite house_ ,” Patton snapped, rolling his sleeve down, glaring at both of his so-called family members and leaving them to go back to his room.

The burn of abandonment and betrayal seared through his eyes, the now streaming tears doing nothing to douse it. The misgendering was another small kindle to the blaze. He’d long since given up trying to be accepted by Deceit, and his mother hardly tried at all, but at times, especially when he was already hurting, it stung. He curled back up on his bed and gripped his pillow to his body. He expected it by now, but that his own mother wasn’t moved into any kind of action by her son actually beating her child to bruising, that she had laughed at the mockery of his feelings, it was...

He thought about the bridge down the street again.

His mind didn’t let up the next day either. He woke up to find himself in a puddle of blood and was too drained to do much more than go take a shower and watch as brown and red turned to pink as it ran down his legs. His stomach growled and he ignored it with a despairing giggle. It set him off down the thought...he could starve himself to death and his mother probably wouldn’t know until she found a day old corpse in his bedroom. He wasn’t going to do that...probably. But the thought that he could set off hysterical laughter and more salty drops joining the water running down his face.

He didn’t know how he’d manage at the respite either. He needed to buy his own food prior but he had no money and no transportation. He knew his mother wouldn’t give him the money, and who else could he ask? And even if he had money, he only had access to transportation for health-related appointments. He didn’t have anything he could use for shopping. And he had no one to take him.

In the end, he wasted sunrise to sunset in his room. He thought, with no real friends, any close people who cared too far away to help, and the family he lived with...he was very scared and alone in a world full of people who hated him. That he couldn’t bring himself to hate any of them just left him in more agony. But he’d wear a smile and hope one day everything would just...

Stop.


End file.
